Chapter 20: A Hot Day

Peter stirred awake to the dim glow of morning light filtering through the heavy curtains of Sable's room. For a brief moment, he simply lay there, savoring the weight of her body resting against his chest, her steady, rhythmic breaths tickling his skin. Her silver hair was tousled, fanning out over his shoulder, and her face was relaxed, a rare, peaceful expression softening her sharp features. She looked so serene, so vulnerable, and it sent a warm ache through his chest.

He gazed down at her, his hand instinctively brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. His thoughts wandered as he watched her sleep, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions. 'How did I get so lucky?' he wondered. After everything he had been through, loss, heartbreak, betrayal, he never thought he'd feel this kind of joy again. Sable was unlike anyone he had ever known: fierce, intelligent, loyal, and so deeply passionate. She saw him for who he truly was, flaws and all, and still chose to love him.

'I've been through hell,' he thought, his fingers lightly grazing her back as she shifted slightly against him. 'But somehow, I came out of it with her. She makes me feel alive, like I can finally start over. Like I'm not the broken mess I thought I was.'

The corners of his mouth tugged upward as he watched her stir slightly, letting out a soft murmur before settling back into sleep. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving her, but there were things he needed to handle at the company. Still, he couldn't resist leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to her temple before carefully untangling himself from her embrace.

Peter moved with practiced precision, ensuring he didn't disturb her as he slid out of bed and grabbed his clothes. Once dressed, he cast one last affectionate glance at her sleeping form, his heart twisting at how peaceful she looked. 'I'll make this up to you later,' he silently promised before slipping out of the room and heading to the kitchen.

In the quiet of the embassy's kitchen, Peter went about making breakfast. He wasn't the world's greatest cook, but he knew his way around simple dishes. He prepared eggs, toast, and fresh fruit, making sure to plate everything neatly. As he worked, he thought about all the little moments with Sable that had led them here, the stolen glances, the playful banter, the raw vulnerability they'd shared.

Once he finished, he grabbed a notepad and pen, scribbling down a note in his neat handwriting:

'Good morning, love. I had to get back to Parker Industries, but I didn't want you to wake up without breakfast. Come visit when you can, I'll be waiting. I love you.'

Peter placed the note beside the plate of food and set everything on the bedside table next to her. He hesitated for a moment, watching her sleep one last time, before bending down and pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"Love you," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

Straightening up, Peter took a deep breath and left the room, his mind already drifting to the day ahead, but his heart remained firmly tethered to the woman still asleep in the room behind him.

Peter made his way back to the guest room, carefully closing the door behind him to avoid waking Sable. As he glanced at the neatly folded clothes he'd laid out the night before, he smirked. Sable had always teased him about his penchant for looking sharp, even on casual days. But today wasn't about practicality, it was about making an impression.

He slipped on the sleek black V-neck sweater, its fabric hugging his frame comfortably without being too tight. Next came the fitted black trousers, perfectly tailored to his lean build. He paused to adjust the waistband, smoothing out any creases. Sliding into his polished black leather shoes, he gave them a quick shine with a nearby cloth before moving on to the finishing touches.

The camel-colored overcoat was the star of the ensemble. He draped it over his shoulders, the rich tone complementing the darker shades beneath. He buttoned it just enough to give structure while leaving the lapels open, showcasing the layers underneath. From the dresser, he retrieved a black pocket square and slipped it into the coat's breast pocket with practiced ease.

Finally, he fastened his wristwatch, a sleek, understated piece with a leather band and a minimalist face. He glanced at the time. 'Still early. Perfect.'

(Check the story on wattpadd if you want a picture of the outfit)

He turned to the mirror, running a hand through his hair to neaten it. The man staring back at him looked composed, confident, and ready to take on the day. 'Not bad, Parker. Not bad at all.'

---

Parker Industries Headquarters, Late Morning

Peter sat in his sleek, minimalistic office, the skyline of New York City sprawling behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was quiet except for the occasional shuffle of papers and the soft hum of the holographic display on his desk. Stacks of reports were neatly arranged before him, updates from various divisions, ranging from bioengineering to advanced clean energy projects.

His sharp eyes scanned over the most recent progress summaries. Parker Industries' neural interface project was making significant strides, and he felt a surge of pride in his team's ingenuity. The renewable energy initiative was also gaining traction, with prototypes for a self-sustaining arc reactor already in development.

Relaxed and fully immersed, Peter leaned back in his chair, sipping a coffee as he tapped through charts and projections. Every so often, he jotted down notes or flagged items for discussion in the next team meeting. For the first time in weeks, it felt like a normal day, no high stakes battles, no life or death decisions. Just a man managing his company, quietly content with where life was heading.

His phone buzzed, jolting him out of his focus. The screen lit up, and he couldn't help but grin as Sable's name appeared. He swiped to answer.

"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," he greeted playfully, his tone dripping with mock formality.

"Don't you 'good morning' me, Parker," Sable's voice came through, her mock sternness barely hiding the amusement underneath. "You snuck out on me like a thief in the night. I ought to have you arrested."

Peter chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "To be fair, I left you breakfast and a sweet note. That's got to count for something."

"Oh, yes, very considerate of you," she teased, her voice growing lighter. "But next time, maybe you could wake me up before vanishing? You owe me that much after... well, you know."

He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "You were dead asleep, Sable. I'm not a monster. Besides, I figured you needed rest after last night. You wore me out, remember?"

There was a pause before she burst into laughter. "You're impossible."

"No, just considerate." He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the desk as he cradled the phone. "Anyway, how are you feeling this morning? Did the breakfast make up for my dastardly disappearance?"

"Well," she began, drawing the word out. "The breakfast was excellent, and the note was sweet. But you're still not off the hook."

"Should I prepare for retribution?" he asked, grinning.

"Oh, definitely," she said, her voice low and teasing. "But I'll let you sweat over what that might be."

Peter laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough. I'm at the office, by the way. You're welcome to stop by if you want to continue this banter in person."

"Tempting," she said. "But I have my own business to handle. For now, you'll have to make do with harassing me over the phone."

"Harassing? I prefer 'charming.'"

"That's one word for it," she quipped, her tone warm.

The two continued to joke and flirt for several more minutes, the lighthearted conversation a welcome reprieve from the usual chaos of their lives. By the time the call ended, Peter was smiling from ear to ear, his earlier focus momentarily forgotten as he leaned back in his chair, already counting the hours until he could see her again.

---

Parker Industries Headquarters, Early Afternoon

An hour later, Peter closed the last folder of reports with a satisfying thud. The day's work had gone smoother than expected. Progress across all projects was steady, and no red flags required his immediate attention. For the first time in a while, Peter found himself with a rare moment to breathe.

Leaning back in his chair, he gazed out the window at the bustling city below. From this height, New York seemed peaceful, almost serene. But Peter knew better, things were always happening in the city, whether you could see it or not.

He rose from his desk, stretching as he walked toward the window. He allowed the familiar writhing sensation of the symbiote slithering over his skin.

The inky black substance spread across his body, covering him in seconds. It shifted and shaped itself into his usual black suit. The white spider emblem on his chest gleamed like a beacon, and the mask formed over his face with a smooth, seamless motion.

Peter glanced at his reflection in the window. The suit was still as powerful and dangerous as the day he first donned it, but he had grown used to it. It was part of him now, and he had come to embrace its presence.

"Let's see how the city's holding up," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the mask.

Sliding the window open, Peter stepped out onto the ledge, the cool November breeze brushing against him. He took a deep breath, feeling the symbiote pulse faintly as if anticipating the freedom of movement. Then, without hesitation, he leaped from the building, freefalling for a moment before his webline shot out, catching on a nearby skyscraper.

The city blurred around him as he swung through the air, the wind rushing past his ears. It was a familiar, exhilarating rhythm, one that never failed to clear his mind.

---

Downtown Manhattan, Mid-Afternoon

Peter had been patrolling for over an hour, weaving through the city streets and rooftops. To his surprise, things were relatively calm. Crime had been noticeably quieter since his takedown of Norman Osborn. It was as if the city was collectively holding its breath, unsure of what would come next.

The weight of what he had done, killing Osborn, still lingered in his thoughts. It wasn't guilt, exactly, but a mix of relief and reflection. He had ended one of the greatest threats the city had ever known, but at what cost?

As he perched on a gargoyle overlooking Central Park, Peter let himself take in the view. The city seemed... lighter, somehow. People in the park below laughed and played, seemingly unburdened by the fear that Osborn had cast over them for years.

The symbiote pulsed again, tugging at his attention. It wanted action, but Peter ignored the urge. Today wasn't about fighting or chasing criminals, it was about reconnecting with the city he loved.

Still, his instincts were sharp, and he remained alert. In his experience, peace never lasted long in New York.

Peter swung effortlessly through the streets of Manhattan, enjoying the feeling of freedom and the quiet of the afternoon. It wasn't often he got to patrol without chaos interrupting his rhythm, and for once, it felt like New York was giving him a break.

That peace lasted all of five minutes.

A faint sizzling sound reached his ears, barely audible over the wind. He glanced down toward the streets below, thinking it might be a fire. But nothing seemed out of place.

The sound grew louder. Peter glanced over his shoulder, and his stomach sank. A glowing trail of fire streaked through the sky behind him, growing closer with every second.

'Oh, come on,' he thought, already dreading what was about to happen. The flames resolved into the unmistakable form of Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, grinning as he rocketed toward him.

Peter let out a long, exasperated groan. "And today was going so well," he muttered under his breath.

Peter groaned inwardly as Johnny's flames dimmed and the Human Torch landed on the rooftop in front of him, looking surprisingly sheepish for someone who had just chased him through the city.

"Hey, Pete," Johnny said, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something softer.

Peter crossed his arms, keeping his tone cold and distant. "What do you want, Johnny? I'm kind of busy."

Johnny scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to find the right words. "I just... wanted to check in on you, man. See how you're holding up. It's been a while."

Peter's expression, though hidden behind his mask, hardened. "A while? Yeah, I guess you could say that." He turned away from Johnny, firing a webline to the edge of the roof. "If that's all, I've got places to be."

"Wait, hold up!" Johnny called, stepping forward. "I'm serious, Peter. I know I haven't been... around like I should've been. I should've checked in when things started going downhill for you. I should've—"

Peter cut him off with a sharp tone. "But you didn't."

Johnny flinched, the guilt in his eyes evident even as he tried to speak again. "I'm sorry, Pete. I screwed up, okay? But I'm here now. Can we just... talk?"

Peter stared at him for a long moment before turning back toward the edge. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Not even if I come bearing peace offerings?" Johnny said, a weak attempt at humor creeping into his voice. He reached behind him and produced a paper bag from a local burger joint, holding it up like a trophy.

Peter glanced at the bag, and his stomach betrayed him with a growl. He sighed, his stance loosening ever so slightly.

"Fine," Peter muttered, walking back to the rooftop ledge and sitting down. "But only because I'm hungry."

Johnny cracked a small, hopeful smile and sat beside him, handing over the bag. "You still like double bacon cheeseburgers with no pickles, right?"

Peter didn't respond, instead pulling the food out and taking a bite. Johnny sat quietly for a moment, watching Peter eat before speaking again.

Peter chewed slowly, the silence between him and Johnny thick with unspoken words. On the surface, it looked like two men sharing a quiet meal, but inside, both were locked in their own whirlwinds of thought.

Peter wasn't interested in whatever Johnny had to say. He wasn't here for reconciliation, not after everything that had happened. All he wanted was to finish the food and leave. Johnny's attempt at bridging the gap between them felt like too little, too late.

Meanwhile, Johnny stared down at his burger, barely taking a bite as his mind raced. He remembered it all too vividly, how, after the Superior Spider-Man debacle, he had taken Reed's side and banned Peter from the Baxter Building. At the time, it seemed like the right move, keeping the team safe from someone they couldn't trust. But Franklin and Valeria hadn't agreed.

Franklin's voice echoed in Johnny's mind, full of anger and disappointment. "Uncle Peter's our friend, and you just turned your back on him! You're not supposed to do that to family!" Even Valeria, always composed and logical, had stared at him like she couldn't believe what he'd done.

And the worst part? Johnny knew they were right.

He let out a small sigh, his gaze flicking toward Peter, who was eating with mechanical efficiency, like he couldn't wait to be done.

'I have to say something.'Johnny thought, his chest tightening with guilt. 'I can't let this be it. I owe him more than this.'

Finally, Johnny broke the silence, his voice hesitant but sincere. "Pete... I know you don't want to hear this, but I've been thinking about everything that happened. How I... how I treated you after Otto took over. I screwed up. Big time."

Peter didn't look at him, didn't even pause mid-bite. "You're not wrong."

Johnny winced at the blunt response but pushed on. "I thought I was doing the right thing, banning you from the Baxter Building. I thought I was protecting the team, protecting my family. But all I did was push you away when you needed us most."

Peter swallowed his food, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "And now you're here because...?"

Johnny hesitated, then let out a humorless laugh. "Because I realized I was an idiot. And because Franklin, and Val won't let me forget it." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping. "They were right. I turned my back on you when I shouldn't have. I should've trusted you, or at least tried to understand what you were going through. But I didn't, and that's on me."

Peter tilted his head, his expression unreadable as he asked, "How are they? Franklin and Valeria."

Johnny exhaled heavily, as if the weight of his guilt bore down on him anew. "They miss you," he said quietly. "They won't talk to any of us. Not Sue, not Reed... not me."

Peter remained silent, his gaze distant as he thought about the kids. God, he loved them. Franklin's unshakable optimism, Valeria's sharp wit, those moments they spent together still played vividly in his mind.

Finally, Peter broke the silence, his voice softer than before. "Tell them I miss them too."

He turned to leave, but Johnny reached out, gripping his arm. "Wait. Look, bro, I get it, I messed up. But just... give me a chance."

Peter stopped, his back still to Johnny. His voice turned colder. "Oh, like the chance you gave me when I tried to explain that Otto swapped bodies with me?"

Johnny flinched as if struck. "Peter, I—"

But Peter wasn't done. He turned around, his expression sharp and cutting. "Body swapping, mind control, clones, evil alternate reality counterparts, we've encountered all of it. You've encountered all of it. And yet, when it happened to me, none of you even considered it."

Johnny looked down, guilt etched across his face. "Look, Peter, I, we messed up, but—"

"But what, Johnny?" Peter interrupted, stepping closer, his voice rising. "You're sorry? Sorry for abandoning your best friend when he needed you most? Tell me, if the situation was reversed, do you honestly think I'd have hesitated for even a second to believe you? To give you the benefit of the doubt?"

Johnny's lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. He lowered his gaze, his silence speaking volumes.

"Go ahead, justify yourself," Peter said bitterly, throwing his arms out. "I want to hear it."

Johnny's fists clenched at his sides, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I was protecting my family!" he snapped, his voice cracking.

Peter let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Oh, is that what you were doing?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Protecting your family?"

Peter reached for a napkin, calmly wiping his hands clean as he continued. "You see, that's not entirely true. One could argue that it was my family you were protecting."

Johnny's eyes widened. "What?"

Peter's eyes glinted with an icy fire as he crossed his arms, glaring at Johnny. "What?" Johnny repeated, his voice shaky, still reeling from Peter's previous words.

Peter let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You know, I'm the one who's been there for Franklin and Valeria. I've been the one helping Franklin manage his powers when they overwhelmed him. I was the one Valeria came to with her projects, her ideas, her dreams, because God knows your brother-in-law sure as hell wasn't there."

Johnny blinked, stunned. "Peter—"

"No, let me finish," Peter snapped, cutting him off. "While Reed was locked in his lab, trying to figure out if screwing toasters would unlock the secrets of the universe, I was the one who showed up for them. Me. I was the one who made time for them, listened to them, encouraged them. And do you know what? Out of all of you, the only person I might consider forgiving is Susan."

Johnny's mouth opened and closed, but Peter didn't give him a chance to speak.

"Do you know why, Johnny?" Peter asked, his voice steady and cold. "Because she's a mother. And as a mother, her job is to protect her kids. I get it. Someone close to her suddenly acting as radically as Otto did when he was in my body? That would've made anyone second-guess. She made a rash decision, sure, but she did it because she was scared for Franklin and Valeria. That's what good parents do, protect their children. I can't fault her for that."

Peter stepped closer, his tone sharp. "But you? You don't get that excuse. You weren't protecting anything but your ego. You were so busy trying to play the hero in your little moral drama that you didn't stop to think that maybe your 'friend', the one who's fought side by side with you for years, might need your help."

Johnny's face twisted in frustration, and he shouted, "They're my family, Peter! Franklin and Valeria are Reed and Susan's kids! You were just a family friend! You don't have the right to claim them as your family!"

Peter froze, and then, slowly, a smug smirk curled across his face. He let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down Johnny's spine.

"Oh, really, Johnny?" Peter said, taking a deliberate step forward. "I honestly can't decide who's more stupid, me, for ever considering a backstabbing, hypocritical liar like you as a friend. Or you, for thinking Franklin and Valeria are Reed's.

Johnny's eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled back a step. "What are you talking about?"

Peter closed the distance between them, leaning in until his face was mere inches from Johnny's. His voice dropped to a whisper, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable. "Your sister is one of the most beautiful, most intelligent, most independent women on this planet." Peter closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate and unnervingly calm. Leaning in close to Johnny's ear, he whispered, his voice a low, venomous hiss, "You might've stopped me from being able to see her. Did you really think you could stop her from coming to see me?"

Johnny froze, his face draining of color as the words sank in. Peter pulled back just slightly, enough to let his smirk cut through the tension like a blade, the glint in his eyes cold and unrelenting.

Before Johnny could respond, Peter flipped backward off the roof with effortless grace. The symbiote shimmered over his body, and within seconds, he vanished from sight, leaving Johnny standing alone.

Johnny stood there, gaping at the spot where Peter had been, his mind racing. Horror, confusion, and anger swirled in his chest as he whispered, "What the hell did he just imply?"

But Peter was already gone, leaving Johnny alone with his thoughts, and the dawning realization of what his former best friend might have just revealed.

---

Downtown Manhattan, Early Evening

The evening air was crisp as Peter strolled through the streets in his regular clothes, phone pressed to his ear as he talked with Sable. The city around him buzzed with its usual energy, but his focus was entirely on the conversation.

"I've been thinking," Peter began, hesitating for a moment. "About us. About being honest with you."

There was a pause on the line before Sable's warm voice cut through. "That sounds ominous. What is it, Peter?"

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I need you to know something about me. Before we got together... I'm a father."

Sable didn't respond right away, and Peter's chest tightened. He stopped walking, bracing himself for the worst.

"To Franklin and Valeria," he added quickly. "It's... complicated. But I-"

"Peter," Sable interrupted, her tone surprisingly calm. "It's fine."

He blinked. "It is?"

"Yes," she said, a small laugh evident in her voice. "I've had relationships before, too. While I've never had children in them, I can't blame you for something that happened before us. Besides, Franklin and Valeria sound like good kids. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

Peter smiled softly, relieved. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Though, I'll admit, with the number of women you've been involved with over the years, I'm shocked there aren't more kids running around."

Peter chuckled, his nerves easing. "With my luck, I wouldn't be surprised if there are."

As he laughed, a voice bellowed behind him, cutting through the moment like a blaring horn.

"PARKER!"

Peter turned, groaning inwardly as J. Jonah Jameson marched up to him, face red with fury.

"You've got some nerve walking around like you're some kind of big shot!" Jonah ranted. "I've been saying it for years! Spider-Man's a menace, and I was right! Right all along!"

Peter sighed, bringing a hand to his temple as Jonah continued his tirade.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble that wall-crawling freak has caused? And you! You're no better, Parker! You're always defending him, always—"

Peter had had enough. He pulled out his phone and silently dialed his assistant, Anna.

"Anna," he said calmly, cutting Jonah's rant short. "Do you remember that idea we talked about a while ago? Do it."

He hung up, leaving Jonah blinking in confusion. "What was that? Calling your limo, Parker?"

Peter smiled, calm and collected. "Black, two sugars."

Jonah frowned, perplexed. "What?"

"That's how I like my coffee."

Jonah scoffed, chuckling mockingly. "What does that have to do with—"

Peter tilted his head, his smile sharp. "You ever hear of the Daily Bugle?"

Jonah's confusion deepened. "Of course, I own—"

"Not anymore," Peter said smoothly, taking a step closer. "I just bought it. And if you want to keep your job, I expect a cup of coffee on my desk every morning from this day forward. Got it?"

Jonah's jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Yeah," Peter said, smirking. "That's what I thought. Know your place, you Hitler wannabe." He raised a finger to his upper lip in a mocking imitation of Jonah's mustache.

As Jonah stood frozen, stunned into silence, a sleek black limo pulled up to the curb. Peter opened the door, stepped inside, and gave Jonah one last glance before the car pulled away.

---

Downtown Manhattan, Late Evening

The city lights flickered to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a cooler, more subdued glow over Manhattan. Johnny Storm walked aimlessly through the bustling streets, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, his earlier confrontation with Peter Parker replaying in a relentless loop.

'He's lying.' Johnny tried to convince himself, his jaw tightening. 'He's just messing with me. He always loved getting under my skin.'

But the memory of Peter's smirk, the certainty in his tone, gnawed at him. Johnny could still hear the venom in Peter's voice, see the way he leaned in with that mocking whisper. "Did you really think you could stop her from coming to me?"

"No. No way," Johnny muttered under his breath, shaking his head. 'Sue wouldn't... she wouldn't do that. She loves Reed. She loves our family.' But even as he thought it, doubts crept in.

Peter had always been close to Franklin and Valeria, almost too close sometimes. Johnny couldn't count the number of times Peter had been there for them, helping Franklin control his powers, collaborating with Valeria on her wild inventions. The kids had always gravitated toward Peter, looking up to him like an older brother... or something more.

'But that doesn't mean... does it?' Johnny's steps slowed as he replayed every interaction, every joke or knowing glance between Peter and Sue. Could there have been something he missed?

"No," Johnny muttered again, his voice more forceful this time. "He's just trying to get into my head. That's all this is."

But even as he denied it, a knot formed in his stomach.

As he walked, Johnny's eyes wandered, and he froze when he saw a familiar figure through the window of a pizza joint.

There, sitting in a booth with a slice of pepperoni pizza in hand, was Peter Parker.

Peter sat in the booth with his back to the window, seemingly focused on the pizza in front of him. Johnny's heart skipped a beat as he recognized him, the earlier confrontation still raw in his mind.

As if sensing Johnny's gaze, Peter turned his head slightly, just enough for his face to come into view. His eyes locked onto Johnny's reflection in the glass, and a slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face.

He didn't say a word, didn't need to. With an almost lazy confidence, Peter gave Johnny a knowing wink before turning back to his pizza, as if the encounter was nothing more than a casual afterthought.

(Insert a gif of james franco winking in spiderman 3 here)

Johnny's fists clenched at his sides, anger bubbling up as he stormed toward the restaurant. But just as he reached the door, a delivery truck honked and rolled by, blocking his view for a split second.

When the truck passed, Peter was gone.

Johnny pushed through the door and scanned the place, but the booth was empty. The slice of pizza Peter had been eating was gone, too, like he had never been there.

Johnny clenched his jaw, frustration and confusion boiling over. "Dammit, Pete," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell is going on with you?"

He stormed back into the street, the city's neon glow reflecting in his furrowed brow. No matter how much he tried to push the doubts away, Peter's words haunted him. "Did you really think you could stop her from coming to me?"

For the first time, Johnny didn't know what to believe.

Thanks for reading everyone

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